Prelude and Fugue
by betelgeuse
Summary: Until a wine carpet can make his emerald gaze blink a few times and the sight of that one girl ached him. A kiss and then another will make him come back for more *To the faceless writers with borrowed names like myself, this one's for you* Strictly H/G


The Prelude  
  
The boy looked down at her.  
  
An unfamiliar hallway- they were in that place. But Harry was quite sure its somewhere in Hogwarts. The carpet under their feet was wine red with gold strings at the sides. Yellow candles that never seemed to run out of wax hung at walls. There's few portraits in this hall- of course, portraits of moving scenery, time, and people.  
  
He didn't know how he and she ended up there, but that didn't bother him. It doesn't look like it bothers her either. Sort of lost but not really lost, in a way.  
  
He met her gaze for a moment, a second, a minute.  
  
A slight touch of his calloused finger tips on her soft face made her tremble. Clear green eyes narrowed unconciously for one quick blink.  
  
Did he hurt her?  
  
The heart skip.  
  
She motioned closer to him after sensing his panic. She looked up at him as he tried to look down on her eyes, trying to see through it. There's confusion, surprise and something else. He couldn't help but close his eyes to make sure this isn't just a dream.  
  
So close.  
  
She brought him back to reality with a gentle tug at his chest. He was in his quidditch robes for some reason, after a game or practice? Everything seemed too vague to remember. The dancing flames highlighted his unruly ebony hair. Sweat has made his hair at the back stick closer to his head. His bangs did the same to his forehead, hiding his scar. Her small pale hand was such a contrast agaisnt the reds and golds of his robe.  
  
The heart skip again.  
  
His left hand never left her rose-tinted cheek. The other hand, the one with the leather gauntlet to help catch the snitch, found its way at her nape. By instincts, Harry pulled her effortlessly closer to him. His chapped lips were few centimetres away from her hair. The boy bowed his head just to let her scent drive him to insanity again and back.  
  
How intoxicating and addicting, this feeling.  
  
She tried to suppress a smile that eventually turned to a giggle. Her shy voice echoed in the hall. Harry raised both his brow to question. She placed both hands around his neck, frailness to blame. His often-confused face is priceless. She smiled at this.  
  
"Tell me." He raised his brows higher. His wet bangs dangled lower than it used to. He licked his lower lip, dry from the cold. Coldness that he was in before. This warmth had melted every inches of frozen emotion and he had lost memory of 'before'.  
  
"Tell you what?" He whispered.  
  
She playfully twisted his drying hair at the back of his head. "What are you thinking, Harry?" She smiled afterwards. Her voice always sounded so nice, so soft, so her. It took him some time to think.  
  
He swallowed. She paid attention as his Adam's apple moved and tried not to giggle. His right hand pulled her closer again.  
  
Her stance was few breaths away.  
  
His lips successfully touched her lustrous hair. He heard her small gasp for air as she swayed in his same motion.  
  
Closer.  
  
It is when a sigh was let go when affections couldn't be kept anymore. One hand stroked her blushing cheeks with more care than the last. It was his turn to tremble now. He lowered his head ever so slowly. Her blood rose lips, its curves, slightly moved apart to meet his.  
  
And then he kissed her.  
  
Their first kiss.  
  
He could feel her crossing arms tighten behind his neck. Searching for something to hold on to, afraid to fall, always afraid to fall. Harry brought one hand around her small waist. He held her really close, he deepened the kiss, and he ended it soon. He opened his eyes now. Her long eyelashes brushing against his skin told him she opened hers too. Her lashes brushed him several times before they turned to look at his expression.  
  
"That's what I was thinking." Harry trailed off, finally answering her question. She bit her lip trying to hide an amused smile. Her lips were redder than before. They remained speechless during this time, until he locked his eyes on hers. His other arm fell around her waist.  
  
The girl gave him one quick glance before pretending to look at a picture of a field. And that's when the insatiable feeling came. He said her name very vaguely. Her slender figure inched away, but it only brought the boy closer. When the back of her head touched the wall. All that was left to do was surrender a battle long lost.  
  
"Harry." she sighed. His arms tensed. Only she can make him stop at a whisper.  
  
So he stopped.  
  
He's breathing her every breath, his nose touching hers, and lips wanting to kiss her again. To be lost in her kiss was an odd wish. And then her eyes had said it all, she fluttered them to a close. She heard him swallowed and inhaled one last breath. He barely touched those inviting lips -  
  
"AH! HARRY!!"  
  
"Huh.what?!" Harry felt he was stabbed seventy times seventy times. He opened his eyes with horror. A blinding white light froze him for a good nick of time. Where did she go? His arms blocked the source that finally settled to a good amount of bearable light.  
  
And then he heard Ron's familiar voice. "My mom always does that. Works every time."  
  
Harry opened his eyes completely. He was in his poster bed. Ron was standing beside the window. Obviously, he was the one who let Britain's immaculate white cloudy days in. The effect, as Ron had said, "works every time", the human pupil decreases to the size of a pen's point.  
  
Too much can be too much. Growing up in a cupboard, the only way to greet morning were Aunt Petunia's yelling and knocking (mostly banging) mercilessly.  
  
"Oh Harry." he heard Dean mimicking a girl's distressed voice. Loud chuckles from Seamus and Ron followed.  
  
Harry frowned. It's been the umpteenth time he's had the same dream. Always ending up kissing her.  
  
Her.  
  
But every single dream was always the repetition of that, that first kiss. Harry gritted his teeth.  
  
"I believe you were having nightmares?" Ron disturbed his thoughts and sat casually at the end of Harry's bed. The red head was wearing a grin wider than Mrs. Figg's cats.  
  
"Cut it out, Ron." Harry ran his hand through his hair. The dream was so real. He was sure that he made sure he wasn't dreaming when he was in the dream. He sighed out loud. Why does it always have to be this complicated?  
  
"Harry, you alright there?" Ron's right leg was squarely crossed with his other. Harry had seen Charlie seat like this whenever he reads the paper. After his fifth summer from Hogwarts Ron has been seating like this, although, with little more slouching to finish that cool look.  
  
"The question should be: Neville, you alright there?" Seamus was fixing his beddings while pointing at Neville. His plump figure was lying flat on the rug in front of Harry's four-poster bed. Ron got up quickly and helped a whimpering Neville to his feet. Neville was wheezing a bit before he spoke.  
  
"Harry, you scared me."  
  
"What?" Harry ruffled his bangs and he was sweating. He felt for his glasses at the bedside table.  
  
"You tried to kiss him." Ron laughed.  
  
Harry felt himself go red and the denial arised. "I saw it with my two eyes" Ron's deep voice echoed before Harry could complain. 


End file.
